


Faithless

by vitya_rabbit



Series: Viktuuri Fluff [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Complete, Demon Yuuri Katsuki, Father Viktor Nikiforov, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Priest/Demon AU, Repressed Memories, Temptation, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 07:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitya_rabbit/pseuds/vitya_rabbit
Summary: Father Viktor 'Niki' Nikiforov has lost his faith, could the entity that has just appeared in his church and frightened away his congregation have something to do with it?Short, one shot, fluffy story...





	Faithless

Father Viktor ‘Niki’ Nikiforov stood at the pulpit looking out across his congregation and sighed inwardly, just how long could he keep this up for? He was waiting for the day when the sea of faces watching his every move would look deep into his soul and see that he had lost his faith.

For a such a long time he had dedicated his whole life to his God and his church, but somewhere along the line his belief had started to run dry. He wasn’t sure how to answer the questions from the teenagers at the weekly youth club meetings anymore; he knew that he looked at them blankly when they questioned him on why, if God was so amazing, why did he let all the people in Africa die from starvation and horrible diseases.

He found it equally difficult in the younger children’s service after Sunday School as well, failing to inspire them into becoming full members of his church; why should they have to get up on a Sunday morning to come and listen to him waffle on about a person he himself no longer believed in?

His dog collar always felt a little too tight as well now, like he was being choked with the hypocrisy of the situation, a priest who had no idea if God was real or just a story made up to keep the people in fear, controlling them whilst pretending to love them.

A single slender finger tugged at the neck of his black shirt as he tried to release the pressure on his throat, the sensation of strangulation was more intense today, was he being tested by this so called God? 

He had no idea. 

The congregation rose to sing the next hymn and he took the time to properly look around the church, HIS church. He still loved the building itself, the large and beautifully created stained glass windows that filled the space inside with so much colour when the sun shone through them. The worn wooden pews that were dipped and shiny from the vast number of bottoms that had sat on them over the years. The pristine altar where he had performed so many communions, offering himself to his Lord as he offered up the wafers and wine to be blessed.

Each week he had an endless stream of  wedding, funerals, christenings to perform; his congregation loved him and he loved them, he just didn’t want to be their conduit to God anymore.

Tears formed in his piercing blue eyes, they hurt, these thoughts and feelings, he felt them like a stab to the heart each time they reared their ugly heads in his consciousness.

He didn’t want to lose his faith, he wasn’t sure what he would be, who he would be if he wasn’t Father Nikiforov, he didn’t know how to be anything else.

 

Silence

 

He suddenly realised that no one was singing anymore, he hadn’t been lost in his own thoughts for that long had he?

A single high pitched scream pierced the deafening quiet, shaking the whole church out of its collective trance.

In reply to that one shriek, shrill noises of panic erupted from the people in front of him as they stared at him, eyes wide, raising shaking hands with pointing fingers all converging on the spot where he was standing. 

Very slowly he became aware that the air was growing dark around him and there was a steadily growing sound of wings fluttering, beating in time with his heart, which was beginning to pulse through the warm cavern of the holy building.

He watched completely speechless as they gathered their loved ones, their belongings and began walking backwards out of the church, some getting halfway down the aisle before turning and running; the heavy wooden doors at the entrance to the church were flung wide open as they fled, not a single person looking back…

The wing sound grew louder and deeper, he could hardly see his pale, slightly trembling hands resting on the pulpit anymore it was so dark.

There was something behind him, of that there was no doubt, a cold blast of wind ruffled his hair, sending the soft silver fringe fluttering in front of his eyes; if he had been asked to explain what he had heard he would have had to say that it sounded like a laugh, a deep, soulless laugh.

The priest knew that he probably should be scared, something, possibly someone, he couldn’t be sure, had manifested itself behind him and judging by the terrified faces of his flock it wasn’t the good Lord, their own merciful shepherd, come to take them all to heaven.

“I’ve felt your confusion, it’s been calling to me, tempting me for so long now…”

The voice was deep, lush, sinful.

Father Nikiforov shuddered, his priests robes becoming too warm as though they were heating up in response to the lustful feelings the voice had created in him.

“Why don’t you turn and look at me, I know you won’t run in fear like those mere mortals did.” 

There was a slight snigger that pulled and teased at an inner place in the priests soul that he had not encountered before, or had he?

“Why s-should I do that?” he answered, cross with himself that his voice had faltered, betraying his emotions to this entity behind him. He knew now that he was being tested, tried by the God he had given up on, angry that he had allowed himself to be led away from the righteous path.

“Because you want to, you want to know who is making your pulse race and your heart beat like it hasn’t done so for far too many years now, find out who is causing the growing heat in your groin. Don’t try to deny it, I can smell you, your tainted soul is delicious to my nostrils.” 

“I know who you are and I know why you are here,” the priest stated firmly, knuckles whitening with the tight grip he now had on his pulpit, “I will not look at you, I know this is God’s way of showing me that I still have faith, that I will be his willing servant until the day he decides I should reside with him in heaven.”

A highly amused laugh rang out through the church, “That’s bullshit and you know it…”

The indignant man squared his shoulders and refused to turn round, “Do not presume to know my own mind, beast,” he spat, “I love my God, I have merely been confused for a little while. I will not desert my flock, their love for me knows no end.”

“So that’s why they ran when I appeared then, left you to battle me all alone, yes, that really shows their love for you…”

Viktor had no immediate answer for that, his perfect brow creased as he thought fast.  “They knew that I would protect them from whatever you are, they placed their faith in me and understood that I would want them to get themselves to safety whilst I battled with you, demon,” he replied, pleased with his short, improvised speech.

“Oh, so you’ve decided what I am without even looking at me then, how arrogant of you.”

“But you are a demon, aren’t you? I heard your wings…” A slight note of uncertainty resounded in his previously confident sounding voice.

“You’ll never know if you don’t turn round…”

A gasp left the priests lips, the voice had ghosted right by his ear, sweet smelling breath teased his nose as he fought with the desire to face whatever, whoever was standing so close behind him.

“Who would have thought that such a handsome man was actually a complete scaredy cat…”

If there was something that Father Nikiforov hated, it was being accused of being scared. He had prided himself on being brave enough to face anything that life had thrown at him and he was not going to let a possible demon prove him wrong.

In one fluid movement he spun on his heel and raised the gold crucifix that hung around his neck, holding it between himself and the entity. 

A muffled sound echoed around his mouth as he clamped his free hand over his lips to hold in the unwanted noise of desire that threatened burst free from him.

The demon was stunning.

Deep chocolate brown eyes framed by impossibly long dark eyelashes and shiny black hair that was swept backwards off his perfect face; he even had small glittery black horns curling out from the gel slicked locks.  The priests eyes swept up and down his figure, drinking in the thighs that were simply to die for.

Black tight clothing covered the sinfully exquisitely shaped body, a flash of red and diamante broke the solid dark colouring, accentuating the curve of his hips. He was eros in its purest, most dangerous form.

Jet black feathers made up his impressively large wings, the width of his wingspan was easily enough to cross the entire church, a demonstration to prove this fact was repeated time and time again as the beautiful man attempted to impress the priest further.

“Demon, why are you here?”

The holy man stood straight, pulling himself up to his full height as he realised that this made him taller than the other man, even with his horns.

“Viktor, cut the crap, you know you don’t want to do this anymore, I’m offering you a way out. Come with me, live in sin with me, give in to the lustful feelings I am creating in you, devour me, enjoy the pleasures of the flesh I am offering you.”

“H-How do you know my name?” he blustered, a cold sweat breaking out over his entire body as impure thoughts flooded his mind, thoughts that he had vowed never to have again when he had been accepted into the church as a young man.

“I know everything about you,  _ Vitya _ …”

A pitiful whine fell from parted pink lips, the demon was deliberately confusing him, using the name only potential lovers would be permitted to use, not that he had had any of those; taunting him with his luscious body, making him want, need, desire the alluringly gorgeous man.

“I c-can’t…” he stammered, stepping backwards and hitting his back on the pulpit as the demon leered at him, unable to break their eye contact.

“Why not,  _ Vitya _ , you know you want me, want to kiss me, touch me, unleash your passions on me…”

“D-Demon…” he started, gripping his crucifix even tighter in his fist.

“Please, stop with the Demon shit, you know my name…”   


“I d-do?” his heart was pounding in his chest as rivulets of sweat ran down his back soaking his shirt.

“Yes, you do, it’s Yuuri… your Yuuri, you’ve dreamt about me,” the dark haired man raised an eyebrow and smirked, “and I know what those dreams do to you…” A pointed red tongue flicked between dampened pink lips in a suggestive manner.

“B-But…” the priest shook his head, finally ending the eye contact, a scarlet embarrassed flush covering his cheeks, nose and tips of his ears, “y-you were not real, y-you were just the invention of a lonely boy. A confused b-boy who though he l-loved other boys.”

Yuuri smiled lasciviously, winked and flexed his wings again, running a hand through his shiny hair and stretching his perfect body, fully aware of what he was doing to the man who had conjured him from the depths of hell so many years ago with his unquenchable lust.

“Oh but I am real, come with me, be my love, give up this mortal form, step into the other side, it’s easy, do something for yourself for once…” 

Viktor turned and hurried down the steps that led from the pulpit and ran along the aisle towards the open doors, sensible shoes clipping loudly on the stone flooring.  A freezing wind howled through the church making his robes billow and wrap themselves around his legs as the heavy wooden doors slammed shut before he could reach then, closing as easily as though they were made of plywood.

Yuuri fluttered down gracefully to land in front of the panting priest, blocking his exit, a hurt expression on his handsome face.

“Vitya, why are you running from me? You told me you loved me, that you would do anything for me to be real. I listened to you tell me time and time again how you wanted to actually kiss me, to hold me, to love me. I begged Satan to make me real for you and then you reject me?”  A single crystalline tear ran down his cheek and plopped to the floor.

“You really are Y-Yuuri?” Viktor gasped, his breath now laboured, he felt like he was drowning in a sea of re-emerging emotions.

The demon stepped forward, closing the small gap between them and holding out his hands, “Kiss me, I’m sure you would know my lips anywhere.”

Father Nikiforov bit his own bottom lip as he stared at the succulent mouth of the demon who called himself Yuuri.

A surge of repressed memories were fighting for his attention, long nights of self abuse, wishing that his ideal male, a combination of all the best parts of his friends at boarding school, were real. Vivid dreams of kissing the soft pink lips and imagining that the long, slim fingers pushing deep inside himself belonged to this male, the boy he had called Yuuri. 

He blanched as he recalled how, the older he got the more ‘real’ the dreams became, until he believed he could actually feel Yuuri’s lips on his, taste his mouth as they ‘kissed’, smell the distinctive scent of his invisible lover.

Shaking his head to clear the confusing thoughts, causing his silver locks to tumble forward, he staggered backwards, almost falling, “I-It’s a trap, i-if I kiss you God will p-punish me, I will l-lose everything…”

“Viktor,  _ Vitya _ , you want me, I want you, I promise you, no one is going to punish you, just kiss me, let me prove that it’s me...”

“If you are my Yuuri, w-why are you a demon, w-why aren’t you an angel?” a note of confidence reentered the priest voice as though he thought he had seen through the entities evil plan to seduce him.

A knowing grin bloomed on the tempting mouth, “You know your religion frowns on male/male relationships, God would never have allowed me to reveal myself to you as an angel, Satan on the other hand… let’s just say anything goes…”

“God is real?” Surprise and shock made him freeze on the spot as confusion resurfaced. Was he being tested or not?

Fed up with Viktor’s indecision, Yuuri decided there and then to take matters into his own hands. He knew that technically he was supposed to wait for the priest to kiss him, but they would be going round in circles for days if he waited for that to happen. Besides, he was tired of being a dream that his lover never remembered when he awoke each morning; he yearned for the return of the fiery passion from the silver haired male, passion that he knew this time round would surpass their frantic, secret fumblings from when they were younger.

Gently he the cupped the face of the terrified priest and kissed him. A satisfied moan left the demons lips as their mouths pressed together, at last, a kiss they would both remember. He pulled away after a few moments and looked at the pretty pink flushed face of the holy man, would it be enough?

Startled, the silver haired man stared at the demon, unspeaking and unmoving, recognition and lust coiling in his stomach, robbing him of the power to do anything. 

“Do you rem…” 

Before Yuuri could finish his sentence, Viktor launched himself at him, chasing his mouth with his own, “My Yuuri…” he whined, catching his lips and kissing him passionately, nipping at his mouth to lead him into a gloriously messy, open mouthed kiss. The dark haired male groaned happily as he was squeezed tightly in the arms of his dream lover, his battle with the dark lord had been worth it, his Vitya still wanted him.

Tongues entwined as a dark glow radiated around the couple, a wind beginning to swirl about the church causing the discarded hymn sheets to spiral up into the air and create a tornado of paper.

“Time to go, my love…” Yuuri whispered tenderly as he curled his wings, surrounding their bodies with the softest feathers which gently cocooned their frames, their arms still wrapped around one another, tingling bodies pressed flush together, both refusing to let go, “This time we will never be separated…”

Viktor nodded happily and rested his head on his dream lover’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar musky scent that reminded him of heated nights in his dormitory bed at school. His flock would would just have to survive without him, it was time for him to do something for himself as Yuuri had said, time for his new life, or was it a kind of beautiful death, to begin…

-

The congregation never forgot Father Viktor ‘Niki’ Nikiforov, the priest who simply vanished one cloudy Sunday afternoon, but no-one remembered the demon Yuuri, he was merely a half remembered thought in the muddled dreams of the children...


End file.
